


i was here, i am here

by niniadepapa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, et all the rest of the characters bcs well, mentioned captain swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/pseuds/niniadepapa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Elsa talk through magical mirrors because frozen swan MUST NEVER DIE OR BE FORGOTTEN. <br/>[based on a tumblr ask mentioning how in denial we are over frozen swan being limited to 4a and how they probably still keep in contact over some kind of magical form of skype.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	i was here, i am here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baiservole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baiservole/gifts), [letterfromathief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letterfromathief/gifts), [emmaofmisthaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/gifts).



> for cee, amber and morgane, proud members of the frozen swan squad <3

Admitting Emma’s family tree was fucked up was the understatement of the century. Three years ago she had nobody, except the nice lady who ran the store she visited periodically to purchase her Poptars who had insisted on learning her name and wish her a good day after she paid. Now she had parents - who were royalty, mind you, - a son who would soon be taller than her if he kept growing at this rate, a pirate boyfriend (it sounded too good not to label it like that), her son’s entire ‘other’ family (Dark One included, even though by silent agreement his name had been pretty much burnt out from the hypothetical family tree tapestry), an entire town (realm?) that constantly supported her and her own.

Oh, and a little brother.

A little brother who had spilled his food _all over_ her sweater.

Good thing her friend was just one magical mirror away.

“What happened to you?” Elsa asked with a frown, sitting on her bed back in Arendelle and staring quizzically at her through the mirror they used to talk on. Emma gripped the edge of the sweater with a tired sigh.

“My brother. He wasn’t feeling really like mashed sweet potatoes tonight. His loss.”

The ice queen laughed. “Maybe he thought you were a nice canvas to try on his art.”

“Yeah, yeah, really funny. How do I get rid of this?”

Elsa stared at her. “You take it off and clean it?”

“Seriously? No spell for this?”

There was a frustrated sound from the other side of the mirror, and Emma fought a smile. “My magic is made of ice, Emma. I only know my own magic, not every spell of every kind of magic.”

Emma’s face fell at that. She really had hoped to get some pointers about magical dry cleaning instead of paying for someone to do it.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Emma made a face, ignoring her friend’s quiet laugh as she looked down at the stained material with a sigh. “I just really love this sweater.”

“You could always ask Regina about this spell?” Elsa suggested.

Emma shrugged the sweater off, ignoring her proposition and carefully folding it so the stain wouldn’t touch any other of her clothes before putting it away in a bag to take it to the dry cleaner - which she thought was run by one of Ashley’s sisters - the next day. She changed the subject, asking Elsa how Anna and Kristoff’s wedding preparations were going, and focused on Elsa’s beaming smile and the tiny diamonds adorning her braid.

She didn’t really want to tell her that she didn’t want to ask Regina, but that she wanted _her -_ her _friend_ - to help her.

* * *

 

“Emma.”

She burrowed further into her pillow, ignoring her name being whispered.

“Emma.”

Her hand palmed under her pillow, searching for her phone with a frown, a part of her still sleep-hazed brain telling her that it _wasn’t_ ringing, but that there was somebody calling for her from somewhere nearby.

“E - m - m - a. Your name is a very funny name did you know that? _Emma_.”

4:32 am.

It was _4:32 am_ and Elsa was on her mirror, laying on her bed with her head propped over her crossed arms, dreamily smiling at her.

“Mine isn’t as funny. _Elsa_.” She blinked. “Wow, both of them are four letters and start with an E and end with an A. Isn’t that great?”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?” she groaned, swatting curls out of her face to focus her eyes on her friend.

“Emma Swan, our names literally spelled it: we were destined to be best friends.”

Emma gawked, torn between feeling alarmed and amused. “Are you _high_?”

“No. I’m sitting on my bed. Though my room is up the castle, so you could say that it is higher than the ground…”

She had half a mind to believe Anna had somehow gotten trapped inside her sister’s body - Elsa had _never_ been this verbose in her life. “What is up with you?”

Elsa shrugged, and even in her dazed state she managed to make it look regal as hell. “Nothing. I just wanted to talk to my friend.”

“At this hour?”

“What are you doing?” She asked it as if she had caught Emma doing something completely ordinary - typing on her phone, reading a book, just chilling with her laptop.

Emma frowned - as if the fact that she was snuggled in bed with her _macarrons_ themed pajamas wasn’t any indication. “I was sleeping,” she drawled, and shook her head in despair at Elsa’s flushed cheeks.

“Oops. Sorry.”

She stretched out her arm and lit on her bedside lamp, focusing intently on her friend’s slightly disheveled state. “Are you drunk?”

At that, Elsa jumped until she was standing in front of the mirror, pointing at her. “How _dare_ you. I have never in my life been drunk. I’ll have you know, queens do not get drunk.”

It would have been super convincing if not for the fact that she tripped on the carpet and had to support herself on the mirror’s frame.

“Did you drink anything during the wedding?”

Elsa’s lips thinned. “Maybe Kristoff might have let me try something. But I am by no means drunk. Queens don’t _do_ drunk, Emma Swan.”

Emma couldn’t contain her laughter, picking up her pillow and hugging it to her chest to muffle her giggles. “Queens are also in complete denial.”

Elsa whined, and only because of the bond they had created Emma crushed down the urge to mention how queens weren’t supposed to whine either. Pouting, she pulled from the end of her bed’s duvet and wrapped it around her body, only her blonde hair and eyes visible as she crawled to the mirror and pouted at her. “Please don’t tell anybody, I had to run away before someone noticed.”

Emma’s gaze softened, putting a hand over her heart. “I won’t. I promise.”

“You’re the best.” With that, she burrowed into her duvet and closed her eyes, murmuring something along the lines of _don’t mention this in the morning_.

(She _totally_ did.)

* * *

  
“Where were you last night? I called for you at least ten times!”

Emma passed a hand through her hair, going from one end of the room to another rearranging things that didn’t really need to be moved from one place to another but incapable of staying put. “I’m sorry okay? What was so urgent anyway?”

Elsa cocked her head, considering her question. “Oh. It wasn’t really that important, but I just wanted to talk - but now that you ask, this man Anna met during my isolation slash freezing-Arendelle-over incident came over and offered to - wait, wait, you are changing the subject!” She exclaimed, accusingly pointing a finger at her, and Emma winced. “Where were you? Did something happen?”

She waved away her concern with a dismissing gesture. “No, no. Nothing’s wrong, apart from the usual. Villains come. Villains try to fuck shit up. Heroes slam them down. And then a little bit of peace in the meanwhile before the cycle starts again.”

Elsa put her hands on her hips, what Emma liked to call her ‘annoyed queen pose’. “So if nothing was wrong, why weren’t you at home?”

“What are you, my mother?”

Elsa’s eyebrows flew up her hairline, eyes widening in surprise at Emma’s tone. “Why are you getting so - _oooooh_.”

Ugh. “What ‘ooooh’?” she mimicked, running to her bed to fluff the pillows - that truly didn’t need to be fluffed, but whatever to avoid her friend’s knowing smirk.

“You spent the night with Killian didn’t you?”

_UGHHHHH_. “I have to go,” she declared, snatching her phone from her bedside table and intent to leave the room and avoid the conversation _forever_.

“Emma Swan, come back here this second and tell me about it.” Elsa had walked up until her nose was touching the glass, and Emma could see tiny spidery frozen lines crawling up the edges of the mirror. Her shoulder slumped, and she walked back to sit on the floor, facing her. She propped her chin on her knees as she hugged her legs to her chest, grumbling under her breath.

“I am _not_ gonna talk about it.”

“But you did spend the night with him, didn’t you?” Jesus, she was actually _clapping_. Emma wasn’t sure if her friend’s enthusiasm was cute or worrying.

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” she chanted knowingly, her laugh tinkling like a bell, and Emma groaned.

(She didn’t hate her. Not at all.)

(She ended up telling her.)

(“Just promise me you’ll cover up the mirror once you move in together, to avoid awkward situations.” “Oh my God SHUT UP”)

 

* * *

 

They talked about their days. Elsa complained about boring queen duties, Emma whined about every dejected, revenge-driven fairytale character finding their way somehow to Storybrooke. Elsa told her about Anna and Kristoff and the people in her kingdom, meanwhile Emma shared stories of her family and Killian. Elsa described the weather in Arendelle, and in return Emma explained holiday traditions that confused her friend such as Christmas or Halloween, as the snow melted behind their windows, followed by the rich smells of spring, the salty breeze during summer and the fallen leaves littering Storybrooke’s sidewalks.

What Emma didn’t tell her was of those days when, after having said goodbye and her mirror became once again her face reflected back at her instead of a gentle smile and soft pale features, instead of going to bed she tiptoed quietly until she was by the cool surface, putting her palm against it, wishing with all her might she could feel the warm skin of Elsa’s hand on hers.

What she didn’t know was that, most times, back in Arendelle, Elsa huddled on her side of the mirror, forehead pressed up to the place where Emma had been earlier, and thinking to herself that, even if the cold had never bothered her, she would do anything for the warm embrace of her friend’s arms.

  
  



End file.
